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Group Sonnets, July 2002


Dreaming About Having a Dream

Last night I had a dream about a dragon
With claws and wings and big pointy teeth.
It was driving a red station wagon
And 'round its neck there hung an X-mas wreath.

I woke to find I hadn’t waked at all,
But slumbered still; the nightmare galloped on,
And flying through dream’s sterile darkened hall
My thoughts are scattered. Could my mind be gone?

Certainly not! Tonight I dream lucid
And I awake, wondering who I am,
Doped up on Cartesian meta-acid
And dashing across a nocturnal lam.

But then you must wake up and face a dream
Where nothing is as nothing makes it seem.


Yesterday’s Flight

A day ago I went into the sky.
I took a flight on a magic carpet,
Quite obsolete for a common housefly,
But good enough for flying o’er a tarpit.

At least it's better than trying to wade
Like geese that jump from water to the air
In tight formations like a sky parade
And laughing at accompanying gulls they sprayed with Nair.

But all flights must eventually come to ground
By terrorist or bomb, I knew we’re fucked,
Especially when I saw who we’d found.
Deftly I dodged and I weaved and I ducked.

I finally touched down in my garage.
My dad was pissed 'cause I was not laplace.


Untitled

In empty beauty solid vacuum cries
And space does color palettes gray and black.
The stars reveal the secrets of the wise
Even against the dark of the Coal Sack.

Fly! Fly free unto a distant star.
And cry! Cry high for me with all your heart.
For you I would climb ev’ry mountain far
To find a great title for this work of art.

But poetic license be what it may,
A stream of nothing births a golden pool
In which reflections show the coming day.
Reflections betray, revealing a fool.

So what was this sad sonnet all about?
We don't, we can't, we won't now know, so pout!


Unprotected Left

On a road I drove, horrible drivers.
I drove like them on Sunset Boulevard.
I ran over some reddish squirrel furs.
I hit a little curb, and hit it hard.

My car sped down the sidewalk, joggers fled.
I wave at them smiling; flashing teeth
Blind passersby, while brake lights flicker red
To find themselves with bones and flesh beneath.

On my left there was a three-headed dog
Driving a beamer with big shiny wheels,
Coursing its way through the north LA fog
Amidst the people’s loud, obnoxious jeers.

Remember -- driving’s not a contact sport,
And buy domestic, not a cheap import.


Fourteen Nasty Ways to Die

A cattle prod inserted in the ear.
He peed on the tree atop a high voltage line.
He OD’d on cheap, disgusting domestic beer.
The day before he fell off trees of pine.

Then after he got eaten by some crocs.
A shotgun to the head made him quite stiff,
As did lashes from whips-of-many-socks.
Passing the River Styx costs a tariff.

The seventh way to die involves a song.
A bitter mushroom from a cave in Spain.
A poison philter secreted in chocolate Ding-Dong.
A rusty nail file lodged inside the brain.

And reading junk like this verbose sonnet
Will be the death of prior writers I bet.

   

Geek Tragedy

Prime put Helen's doll Stitch in the trash can.
It’s all 'cause he’s a nerdy physics dude.
He'll only have a party with a LAN.
No girl will ever mar his solitude.

As blinking lights beguile his somber gaze,
The chorus chanted, telling us the plot.
Alas we knew Picard through all the haze,
His chatting with Riker about girls got

Data so horny he blew a circuit,
Like on the episode "The Naked Now".
Stitch cried out victoriously and fit,
While Lilo mooed as if she were a cow.

But what has happened to our lonely geek?
Gone to multiplex the Enterprise to seek!


Dr. Frankenstein’s Beauty

In but an hour did he revive the dead
And marvelled at the work that he had wrought.
Purple lipstick cunningly hid the tilted head,
Though with the yellow eyeliner it clashed and fought.

Until the yellow shade was all but dead,
She went on and on about his tie tack.
His cheeks, quite pretty, were colored with lead,
but most when they’re covered by a small sack.

Doctor wanted to hide into a flap
A beast with seven eyes and seven ears,
Between each pair of teeth a bleeding gap,
The voice a ragged, blistered shriek which sears.

The creature primps and preens before the mirror
And draws a box of make-up all the nearer.


A Grey Cat in a Grey Room on a Foggy Morning

The cat meowed beneath my foot, yowling!
O cat, grey cat, please cease your caterwaul.
My ears so hurt this day with all your howling,
But how could I forget you’re such a doll.

Your static-like hair, stands out it does not
By way of the increased humidity.
Alas the kitty’s nose began to rot,
For every act of evil has its fee.

Satanic bargains never bring content.
Grey cat, grey room, grey morn, the carpet -- red!
Why must you shred my draperies, leave them rent,
And come enjoy this can of sea-plucked cod?

Because you are my total complete joy,
Except I can’t see you, my colorless toy.


Ode to an Urnish Greek

O Urnish Greek, please tell me what it’s like
When long ago you went aboard a ship.
You had to put away your dreams of Pike,
The frat house on Gayley where parties are hip.

There they woo fly honeys with words and wine.
The prude ones would giggle and buzz away.
But spirits warped their paths away from lines
Of joy to those of tragic Attic plays.

Oh Urn! Oh Urn! I dance, spin, and turn!
I flit! I float! I fleetly flee, I fly!
To flee this cage! My cage inside my urn,
Painted with heroes who have had to die.

I salute you, you dim, loutish, Greek oafs,
And your skills at preparing raisin loafs.